


Foot Off the Brake

by katwithallergies



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katwithallergies/pseuds/katwithallergies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stig is immortal. Ben isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foot Off the Brake

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [If I Were Gay…](https://archiveofourown.org/works/282963) by [Charli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charli/pseuds/Charli). 



> This is un-beta'ed and I'm posting it late at night after I wrote it so we'll hope for the best. This is one of those fics that just snuck up on me and demanded to be written. Originally inspired by the dream sequence in Charli's [If I Were Gay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/282963).

_if we live to see the other side of this,  
I will remember your kiss.  
so do it with your mouth open.  
and take your foot off of the brake  
for christ's sake  
  
“Dilaudid” The Mountain Goats_  
  
The fire is put out and the smoke clears.  The car is towed away.  The ambulance leaves, and everyone is just fine.  But the tension stays, pulled taut as a piano wire all through the warehouse and track and everyone in them. It crackles in the air like caged lightening in a heavy storm cloud, begging to break loose.  

James makes another restless lap of the portakabin, shaking the itch out of his arms with flapping motions and listening to his pulse beat in his ears.  He can feel the spent adrenaline settling like a collar around his neck and shoulders.  He’ll be sore tomorrow.  He pushes the door to the kitchenette open, thinking of a cup of tea to settle his nerves, and sees The Stig sitting in the empty room, stiff backed, in one of the plastic chairs by the little table.

“Alright?” James asks, sitting beside him.  As soon as his sits his left leg starts bouncing, beyond his control.  Stig inclines his helmet and doesn’t answer.

The Stig is a funny puzzle. Sometimes he’s Ben, James’ mate who he chats to about cars and shares a cup of tea with; sometimes he’s The Stig, the character, the silent tame racing driver who doesn’t care for tea; sometimes he’s a strange mixture of both.  Ben is flesh and bone; The Stig is something else.

James isn’t sure who he’s speaking to at the moment.  The helmet and gloves are still on, but there’s something in the set of his shoulders that is just _Ben_.

“That was quite a tumble you took.”  James glances over Stig’s mirrored visor and wonders how Ben feels behind it, sees only his own pale reflection.  “I-- I don’t think anyone is over the shock of it.  We’re all quivering with unspent energy; don’t know what to do with ourselves.  You must...” he trails off uncertainly as Stig (Ben?) moves a gloved hand to rest high up on his thigh.

James clears his throat and chuckles nervously.  “Ehrm, mate?”  He glances down at the hand. Through the leather and the denim of his jeans he feels the slightest tremor in it.  _Ben_.

Slowly, Ben reaches up with both hands and pulls off Stig’s helmet.  His eyes are dilated and wet at the corners and his hair is sweaty and standing up wild.  The perfect opposite to The Stig’s cool facade.  Not breaking eye contact Ben tugs the gloves off and replaces his hand on James’ thigh.  In one fluid movement he swings off his chair and onto the floor to kneel between James’ knees, now sliding one hand up each leg straight to James’ zip.  

James chokes on a sharp breath but can’t find the air to form words. His tongue feels fused to the dry roof of his mouth and his cock is suddenly pressing against his jeans.  Ben flicks open the button and lowers the zip purposefully.  He doesn’t look up as he pushes James’ boxers out of the way and pulls out his half hard cock.  

James almost says “ _Ben, what are we doing?_ ” He at least thinks it really loud, but then the part of his brain that hasn’t gotten laid in over six months kicks in and he goes from half to fully hard as his hands clamp around the seat of his chair.

Ben leans up on his knees, one hand wrapped loosely around James’ cock and the other tangled in his boxers.  The tremor fades from his hand and his breathing slows and he studies James.  Warm air ghosts over James’ sensitive skin and he makes some involuntary sound in his throat that gets Ben’s attention.

Ben looks up, staring straight into James’ eyes, and James can count his own heartbeats as Ben slowly lowers his mouth over him.  

The sensation is instantly overwhelming as Ben takes him in deep, until James feels his cock bumping the back of his throat.  James lets his head fall back and swallows hard, trying hold himself still.  

Ben pulls back, spit draped between his mouth and James.  James’ moan quivers out and Ben groans softly as he goes down again, working his tongue over the underside of the head deliberately.  James pulls his head forward. He has to watch, it’s just too perfect.  Ben’s mouth is burning hot and absolutely fucking amazing.  James’ touch starved skin is drinking it in and the edgy adrenaline buzz he’d been unable to shake is edging away.

James’ muscles have all locked in place and he can’t drag his gaze up from Ben’s wild hair moving between his legs.  Ben leans up to get a new angle and James feels a shiver start in his cock and run all the way through him and down his arms until he has to release his death grip on the chair and shake them out.  He lets his hands fall back into Ben’s soft, damp hair, digging into the loose strands.  Ben groans, encouraging him and sending another shiver through his cock.

“Ohhhhh, fucking shit,” James moans, struggling to keep his hips down.  “Ben!”

Ben leans back and pulls off with a soft pop.  James whimpers.  

“Stig,” he says firmly without looking up.  He kneels, silent and still, his head down.  James realizes he’s waiting.

James groans heavily and runs his hands down to the suit’s shoulders, catching his fingers in the signature black epaulettes.  “Stig.”  He purrs the name and feels it settle like a weight in his chest.  

Stig surges forward and goes down on him, sucking hard and swallowing him down to the base.  Despite himself James’ hip jerk forward as Stig works his tongue over him with a fervor that wasn’t there before.

“Stig. God. You indestructible bastard.  You’ve done it again,” he pants out.  Stig whines low in his throat and pulls back to lave the side of James’ cock with his tongue. Spit runs from his lips down his cheek and James feels his climax coming fast.  His hips begin to thrust shallowly and he breathes in time with them, groaning and clutching tight at Stig’s shoulders.

“Cheated death again. Ahhh--. Fuck yes, Stig.  Unbelievable.”  He hitches in half a breath as his orgasm catches him off guard and he comes hard into Stig’s mouth.  The world goes dim and muted for a few seconds.

Eyes half closed, James hears Stig whimpering as he licks James clean, frantically rubbing himself through the suit with one hand.

“C’mere,” James says roughly, voice gone all deep, and tugs on Stig’s arm.  Stig stumbles to his feet quickly, trembling as he steadies himself on James’ shoulder with one hand and opens the lower zipper of his jump suit with the other.  

James glances up and is caught off balance by Ben’s face.  His eyes are pressed tightly closed and tears are leaking from the corners leaving wet trails on his cheeks that merge with the spit drying around his mouth.  It isn’t right, doesn’t feel right, and James is about to say so when Ben grabs Stig’s white helmet and forces it over his head.  

He pulls on the white gloves with practiced ease and draws out his hard, weeping cock with one hand.  Stig shuffles his feet, pressing closer between James’ knees.  The gaze from the helmet is impassive as ever.  

James grasps Stig’s hips in both hands and takes his cock into his mouth slowly, just the head at first.  It’s velvety and fever-hot and he flutters his tongue over the slit to taste, causing Stig’s hips to twitch.

James wraps his lips over his teeth automatically and breathes carefully through his nose, inhaling the warm, rich, spicy smell of The Stig.  It’s been a few years since he’s sucked cock and all of a sudden he finds he’s panting for it. He nudges Stig’s hips forward as he takes him down further, attempting to relax his throat when he gets there and pleased to find that he still can.  He swallows around the cock and hums and James swears he hears a muted groan from behind The Stig’s visor.  

Stig brings both hands to the back of James’ head, holding him in place as he begins rocking his hips, thrusting his cock into James' mouth.  James groans in encouragement and urges The Stig’s hips to go even faster. He drops his hands away and leans forward, offering himself, and something in The Stig tears loose.  Even through the suit James can sense his posture rearranging.  

Stig’s hips jerk forward hard and his hands tighten in James’ hair. He leans back and slams in again, and again.  James chokes reflexively but The Stig doesn’t stop jackhammering into his mouth like a machine, using him up.

After just a few strokes, Stig’s hips snap forward and stay.  His body arches like a bow and James feels come pulsing against the back of his throat.  He swallows around Stig and pulls back, sweeping his tongue over the underside.

Stig falls back onto his heels and James sucks his cock clean as it falls from his mouth.  He smiles up at The Stig and sees himself, disheveled hair and wet mouth.  As Stig’s hands falls away he runs one tenderly over James’ jaw, passing a leather-covered thumb over his lips.  James knows he’s saying “ _Thank you._ ” He kisses the thumb softly before it withdraws.

Stig tucks himself in and zips up.  He turns a half circle in the small room, looking a little lost, before reaching for the door.  He glances at James once and then he’s gone, disappearing back into the world outside the door.  James runs his own fingers lightly over his lips and belatedly zips himself up.  He feels wrung out, all the nervous energy from earlier effectively drained.

James has a suspicion of what this was all about, but he has to wonder, _was it enough_?


End file.
